Dark Days Of Autumn Rain
by SemixQuaver
Summary: A Simple Plan. AU. Jacob/OC. What would have happened if Jacob, Hank and Lou had never found the plane? If Jacob had missed going to the graveyard with Hank due to a girl from Australia? A happier story for someone who truly deserved it.
1. Silver With Clinging Mist

**Dark Days of Autumn Rain**

Chapter 01 - Silver With Clinging Mist

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* * *

I do not own the film A Simple Plan and only own character's of my own creation. This is kind of a silly work of fiction that I decided to write after watching the film because I really, truly believed that Jacob deserved better and what would have become of Hank, Lou, Jacob, Sarah and co. when they did not find the plane. Will it be continued? Maybe. Am I expecting reviews? Hell no. Just wanted to see if anyone would read it :)_

* * *

Claire had a newfound hatred for the snow. Contrary to popular belief back in Broken Hill, i.e. middle-of-no-where, Australia, it was not fluffy and pure white and it did not float angelically down from the heavens (being from a middle class farming family, Claire hadn't had any winter ski trips to the mountains or overseas holidays). No, the snow was not even falling at that point, and the stuff down at her feet resembled grey sludge, not picturesque white feathers at all.

The snow was most definitely not Claire's new best friend. Everything about America was so different from where she'd lived since she was a small child. No red dust swirling at her feet, no dogs on the back of utes (trucks, Americans called them, and they called trucks 'Big rigs', or so she'd been told), no shorts, no blue singlets, no Southern Cross tattoos and most of all – there was no _life_. Claire had thought Broken Hill was bare, but in comparison to this sleepy little town it was abuzz with action. And here she was with her uncle, driving through it on the way to his house.

Obviously her bewilderment had shown on her face, because her Uncle Carl chuckled as he looked her up and down and commented in his slow American drawl, "It's a darn sight colder here than down under, aren't it?"

Another thing to add to the growing list of dislike – the American accent. Especially Uncle Carl's. It was slow, and sounded like he couldn't elongate his words more than a few seconds lest he took too long to say what he meant. Maybe that was just a police thing in general, though. She knew coppers back home who definitely liked to drawl, and she supposed if anyone had the right to sound arrogant and rushed, it was a sheriff.

"I wouldn't say that, Uncle Carl. It's cold at home, but it's a different type of cold. Dry, and harsh, not all this… wet nonsense," Claire replied trying to sound like she wasn't too down on the place. Uncle Carl and Aunt Linda had actually bought her ticket to come here – after all, she'd wanted to see where her mum had grown up and it was her chance to actually get out of Australia and see somewhere new, even though it wasn't really all it was cracked up to be.

"Lord, that accent Claire, thick as thick, that is. Did you get that job at the hospital you were tellin' me about? Y'know, the uh… what type of nurse was it again?"

"Paediatrics. I work with kids," Claire replied, smiling. "Can't get enough of them, really."

"A lady in our town's havin' one soon. 'Bout a month or two, I believe. Sarah Mitchell, pretty young woman, couple of years older than you, I think."

"That's lovely. It's always such a miracle… Uncle Carl has that apartment building you were telling me about still got a place available?"

Carl chuckled again and scratched the back of his head. "It's a pretty run-down heap of junk to tell you the truth, Claire. There are only two apartments there, and one's already occupied. I'd wait 'till you can afford something in the city."

"I'd prefer not to," Claire replied with a shake of her head, refraining from mentioning that money was definitely not an issue. "It'd be nice to live closer to you and Aunt Linda. You've been so kind, and if I can stop by for tea every so often, I'd like to."

"Heavens girl, we'll give you a full meal, not just tea!"

"In Australia, we call our last meal of the day tea," she explained patiently. "Anyway, I'd like to check it out tomorrow, if that's okay with you?"

"I'd love to, but I got work – can't take too much time off, bad for the morale, y'know? Tell you what; I'll give Jacob Mitchell a call. He lives in the other apartment, and he can come pick you up. I'll warn you, he's not the best lookin' guy in town, but he's a nice enough one. A decent guy. How's that sound?"

"Is that the bloke with the pregnant wife?" Claire asked.

"No, that's his brother Hank's wife. Jacob's… well, he's never had much luck with the ladies. Not that that's a bad thing, mind you, he's a nice guy – just a little lacking in looks and smarts."

Claire frowned. Her uncle sounded like he was either saddling her with the town drunk or the village idiot – neither options sounded very appealing. Far be it for her to discriminate against those less fortunate than her, but really, what type of apartment was this place? Probably some rundown little place with leaking pipes and a moldy shower. Possibly even a long drop out the back. She snickered and looked out the window, hiding her smirk.

How she'd ever fit into a town worse than Broken Hill was a mystery.

The moment Claire stepped inside her uncle's home she knew Linda Jenkins was very similar to Claire's mum in many ways – small, harsh, sincere and a full head of tenacious curls. And so, she was very similar to her niece in many ways as well. From the moment she could talk, Claire had been bossing other people around and had been a little compact ball of energy.

"My goodness, Claire O'Neill! You're just as I'd imagined, of course, except for that hair! It's as frizzy as mine, though that colour is entirely your father's. You're definitely not eating enough. Too skinny, much too skinny." Of course, she hadn't really inherited that habit of Aunt Linda and her mother's of stating the obvious.

"Hey Aunt Linda. Thanks for letting me stay here, but I'll be out of your hair sooner rather than later, I promise," Claire replied, lightly touching her claret-coloured curls.

"I won't hear of that, you silly girl. Now, my husband tells me that you were planning to take a gander at that place up the street, in the apartment building?" her aunt inquired, ushering her through the door of their cosy little cottage, leaving Carl trailing behind with the baggage.

"Yes, he's organising someone to show me around. I'm going to arrange for mum to send over some of my stuff from my old apartment when I get everything settled." _Our_ old apartment, she silently thought, annoyed at the slight pang in her chest that still resounded. "And that way, I don't have to spend more money than I need to."

"That's very responsible of you, Claire."

"No, just sensible," the younger woman replied with a casual wave of her hand.

Soon, Claire was shown to the guest room, and she was feeling more exhausted than ever – she'd never really experienced jet lag before, but this really was taking it out on her. She slumped onto her bed, resting her head in her hands and closing her eyes, taking a minute to tide away the sleepiness from her jet-lag. She remembered how sometimes, when it had just been them together, Claire and Daniel, he would hold her softly to his side, rubbing the swell of her belly and whispering softly in her ear as she fell asleep, warmth filling her until she could almost burst. Sometimes he would lean his head on her stomach, and listen, just listen, lovingly. Touching, kissing, hugging, she had it all, she had a perfect life, a perfect relationship.

But that was then. Claire laid a hand on her flat stomach and sighed. It seemed like forever ago, now. The young woman shook her head and turned to rummage around in a smaller bag sitting on the bed. It was no use to think of such things now, seeing as it was all in the past, and nothing was going to change the way _he_ felt. Finding the clip she was looking for, Claire pinned back her unruly mop and continued to unpack, desperately seeking to thrust the thoughts of home from her mind.

* * *

"Mornin' Claire. How's our resident Sleepin' Beauty this morning?" Carl asked cheerfully as the aforementioned girl stumbled down the hallway and into the kitchen.

"G'morning, Uncle Carl," she mumbled, pulling her woolen cardigan closer around her as she fell into a chair at the table. "What time is it?"

"'Bout half-eight. Good thing I asked Jacob to come get you at nine."

Claire was nodding, and about to agree that this _was_ a very good thing indeed, when she realised that she had to eat breakfast, get dressed, and clean her teeth, all in the space of now, twenty-five minutes. Carl chuckled as Claire went racing back down the hallway and into her room, faster than he could take another sip of coffee. "Linda, maybe you ought'a get our niece a cup of coffee and some toast for when she comes hollerin' down the hallway in about five minutes. She's all skin and bones, so she shouldn't skip some breakfast."

A short time later she emerged, hair pinned into a semblance of an up-do and wearing a simple sweater and jeans. She gratefully accepted the steaming mug of coffee from her aunt, and wrapped her fingers around it gratefully.

"Time?"

"Ten to."

"Bloody hell. Is that toast for me?"

"Sure is," replied Carl, pushing the buttered toast towards her. Claire took a bite from the toast then glanced around the kitchen, alternating between eating her toast and drinking her coffee.

"Are my boots around?" she asked between all of this, not being able to spot the brown leather Blundstones anywhere. Her uncle shrugged and gulped the last of his coffee as Linda replied that she'd placed them outside as they were quite dirty. The younger woman resigned herself to her fate of having to go outside before she actually had wanted to, and rushed down the hall towards the front door. She flung it open and expected to fly through onto the veranda – or porch, as her aunt and uncle called it – but instead she found herself knocking into something solid and toppling over, bringing the object with her.

At first, Claire though she'd actually flung herself onto one of the supports holding up the house, but rationalising that a girl like her probably couldn't rip out a support post, she soon looked up and found herself on top of… a man. She quickly disentangled herself, grabbed the Blundstones and ran inside to her room, yelling out to Carl as she went, "Uncle Carl, there's a man at the door!"

She sat on her bed, quietly gasping for air as she pulled on her boots, mortified to the extreme. She hadn't even really looked at the man – she just took off, uncomfortable at their proximity. She smoothed back her hair and got her coat out of the wardrobe and took a deep breath. Surely, he would just laugh it off. Surely. No harm done.

Claire stepped out into the hall to see her uncle conversing with the man. He was about six to seven inches taller than her (which wasn't hard, considering she was 5'4" at the most); with limp brown hair shoved underneath a dark beanie. He wore huge glasses, and when he smiled and laughed at whatever Carl had said, he showed off an impressive row of slightly yellowed teeth. Yep, he was the village idiot, all right. She'd have to remember to thank Uncle Carl.

"Ah, there she is. Jacob, this is my niece Claire Fredrickson. Though I suppose you two were already well acquainted. I'm surprised she could even knock you down," the sheriff said with good humour. "And Claire, this is Jacob Mitchell."

Jacob held out his hand, and Claire took it, shaking it firmly. "Pleased to meet you, Miss Fredrickson."

She inclined her head with a slight smile – no need to actually give him _ideas_. "Call me Claire. I'm not used to formalities – we don't use them much back home anyway."

Jacob wasn't really a wholly unattractive man. He was very awkward, and seemed to not really know what to say to her, but at least he looked like he had some modicum of personal hygiene (unlike some of the men she'd seen around on her way to the Jenkins' house) and was politer than most people she'd had to deal with back home. Maybe not such an idiot after all. "So, that's a uh… a pretty cool accent. Where are you from originally, Claire?" Jacob asked softly, not really looking at her. He was definitely quite shy.

"Australia."

"That's cool."

"Jacob Mitchell, are you going to stand in the doorway or come in for some coffee?" her aunt called from the kitchen, directing his focus off her and into the distance. She noticed he had brown eyes, very warm.

"Thanks ma'am, but I'd better show Claire around the place. I was gonna go see mom and dad with Hank this mornin' but I'm going after we're done, so I'd better not stay," her replied, his eyes crinkling in a smile.

"All right, but don't you be a stranger now. Come round for dinner sometime."

"Sure will. Thanks for your hospitality Carl," Jacob said as he shook hands with the older man. He turned his eyes on Claire for an instant, then looked down and scuffed his toe on the floor, mumbling something about them heading off soon.

Her uncle chuckled – something the Australian thought he was doing far too often – and looked at her. "I'd get some gloves and a hat, Sleepin' Beauty. It's mighty cold out today."

Claire pulled out her gloves from the coat pocket, and waggled them at her uncle with a dimpled smile. "Got them. And I'll be fine without a hat, I'm not that fragile."

With quick goodbyes to her family, Claire followed Jacob out as he strode out to an orange-red Ute and opened the door for her, a gesture she hadn't had anyone do for her in a very long time. She was at a loss of what to say as Jacob got into the driver's side, so she decided to keep her silence, rather than pollute the air with awkward and unnecessary conversation.

"So, uh, Australia's a long way away. What brings you here of all places?" her guide asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

Claire glanced out at the desolate countryside all around them and knew Jacob had a point. No-one would come here for a holiday – unless you liked the whole rural decline style impoverished farming town thing. "Life, I suppose. Things happened, and I needed to get away to somewhere… different," she tried to explain, hoping she wasn't being too cryptic or confusing. It wasn't her intention, but when you're trying to conceal something, often you sound like you're trying to be mysterious. Not that she was overly fussed on people knowing why she left, it was the fact that the man beside her probably didn't want to hear her life story as a reason."I just needed to be somewhere far away from things that happened recently," she finished lamely, wondering why she felt she had to justify herself to Jacob.

"Well, I'm not gonna pry into your business or nothin', so I won't ask anymore," he said resolutely, nodding decisively. "Though aren't you a little young to be running away?"

Claire shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm too young for a lot of things. Coming here's probably one of the best decisions I've made, I think. Besides, I'm twenty-five. I'm a big tough girl," she joked weakly, but he still laughed anyway. "Hey, that's it, isn't it?"

"Sure. It ain't real pretty, though."

When the car had stopped, Jacob opened her door for her, and again she felt awkward with this type of attention, so she turned her eyes towards the building before them. It was a simple two-story town house, extremely dilapidated and an ugly brown colour. It was a lot like Jacob really – falling apart at the seams. "I got the downstairs place – Mary Beth ain't too fond of stairs," Jacob commented, digging his hands deep into the pocket of his baggy khaki's and pulled out his key, walking to the door to admit them entrance. "She's my dog."

"Oh," Claire replied, smiling to herself. It made sense that the love of this mans life was his dog. "What type of dog is she?"

Jacob stuck the key in the lock and jiggled it a little. "I think she's a… a type of retriever or somethin', but, I uh, don't really know. Found her wanderin' around about two years ago."

The door came unstuck and was held open for her as she walked in. There was a tiny entryway with peeling cream-coloured plaster that smelt faintly of mold, with an equally flaky wooden door to one side and a creaky flight of stairs that looked none too stable. "It's not much, but it's a place to live a 'spose," the older man said, leaning in the entryway door, looking uncomfortable at her scrutiny of his home. "I cleaned upstairs for ya all nice, y'know, just in case. I didn't... I didn't want you to be uncomfortable."

Claire wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes a moment. Everything was happening so fast – she hadn't thought that she'd be able to find a place to live or a job, but now she had both."Thank you, Jacob. I'm sure it will be great."

He blushed and looked down, and Claire smiled softly. Jacob was sweet – if not a little… slow. It wasn't like he was anything like some of the guys back home, whose motto seemed to be "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours", in the most disgusting sense possible.

"I'll show you the place then. It's nothin' fancy… but uh, but, it's pretty cool. It's big and it's got a separate bathroom, which is pretty cool."

Claire followed Jacob upstairs, treading lightly in fear of a stair collapsing underneath her, and waited patiently as he dug into his pockets yet again for the key to the other apartment. She studied him again, thinking that now she had talked to him, she probably had judged him a little harshly. He was a decent person, just as her uncle had said, and she shouldn't have been so sceptical.

"I can never find my keys," Jacob stated awkwardly, still rummaging. "I think I need to get a…a…one of those, uh, key rings or somethin', else I'll lose 'em one day. Here we go, found it," he finished triumphantly and opened the door to reveal her prospective apartment.

It was bigger than Claire had expected. It was an open plan, and she could see the kitchen from the doorway, gloomy light from the windows illuminating the aluminium of the sink. Its walls were the same colour as the entrance hall, but the plaster was a little less flaky and seemed to have been relatively un-lived in. She could picture herself here, she realised. The apartment was simple, clean and it was close to her aunt and uncles and the bus stop where she would have to travel to get to work in the city. Claire nodded to herself and walked further into the place, looking around more. Yes, she could definitely see herself starting over here, she thought, throwing out her arms and spinning a little, laughing at her childishness. This would be perfect. She turned to look at Jacob, who seemed slightly taken aback by her behaviour and said a little breathlessly in her excitement, "I'll take it!"

"Are – are you sure?" he asked looking around and pushing his over-sized glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Of course I'm sure. I think it's great. Once I get mum to send my stuff over, I'll move in. Do you have your landlord's number?"


	2. Better For Her Praise

**Dark Days Of Autumn Rain**

Chapter 02 - Better For Her Praise

* * *

The landlord seemed to be at least a hundred years old, and apparently was happy to give her the apartment for $130 a fortnight – too cheap, if you asked her, but he wouldn't hear of any more. Claire sighed, put the phone down and looked around. Jacob's apartment was untidy and plain. There was only one picture in the house, which was a black and white image of someone's wedding – she assumed it was his parents. "Thanks for letting me use the phone," she began awkwardly, spotting Jacob walking back into the room with a russet-coloured dog trailing behind him.

Claire turned her attention on the dog as it walked cautiously over to her and sniffed her hand. When it gave a small lick, she crouched down and ruffled its ears and petted it. "Hello, Mary Beth," she cooed softly, looking into the dogs warm brown eyes – strangely similar to the other pair of brown eyes that were fixed on her at that moment. "Who's a pretty girl, huh?"

"Most girls don't usually like Mary Beth," Jacob commented softly, seeming to be baffled.

"Maybe it's the slobber?" Claire asked jokingly, laughing as the big dog tried to lick her face. "I love dogs. I haven't had one since I was staying with my parents." She looked up and locked eyes with her new neighbour for a moment, then looked back at Mary Beth. "Maybe I'll just have to adopt her as my rent-a-dog. I'm afraid she'll probably get me down here so often you'll get sick of me."

"That's uh…well I – I don't think that'll be the case, y'know? I don't think Mary Beth has the disposition to get sick of people," he replied awkwardly, scratching the back of his head.

"I was talking about you," Claire pointed out with a small laugh. "Anyway, can you take me home? I'd better not keep you from your appointment, and I'd better ring mum about sending some things."

Jacob nodded, and she stood, looking around as she did so. Evidently, the man before her had little income. He had next to no possessions in his house, and what little furniture and embellishments he had were old and looking a little worse for wear. She felt a pang of pity in her chest, and looked at Jacob. Evidently Claire's sympathy had shown in her face, because he stood stiffly and held his head slightly aloft, as if to say that he was unashamed of the way he lived. Claire looked down and felt ashamed too – she had no right to judge this proud, decent man. So when she looked up again, she smiled and said, "I think we'll make great neighbours."

This seemed to make Jacob relax slightly, and he nodded. "You think so?"

"Yeah, I do."

Mary Beth trailed behind them on the way to the truck and hopped in the front seat between them both, which seemed to embarrass Jacob, but Claire didn't mind at all. She stroked the big dog and looked out the window, glad that the heater was in the car – it was getting colder, she thought. "Where was it you were headed off to again?" she asked, taking her mind off the frigid weather outside her window.

Jacob was silent for a moment. "I'm visiting my mom and dad's graves with my brother, Hank."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Dad, well, he died when I was about twenty-three or so I reckon. Mom went shortly after."

"Do you miss them?"

"It's hard to miss somethin' you never had, Claire. My parents always loved Hank more – I know you're not supposed to love one child more than another, but I dunno. Sometimes things happen strange. I've never been a-anyone's favourite, 'cept maybe Mary Beth, but you're sure givin' me a run for my money," Jacob said in a soft, matter-of-fact way. "But I still loved them."

"What's so special about Hank?" the redhead asked a little indignantly, feeling an even more immense amount of pity for her companion.

"Hank… Hank's a cool guy. He's really smart, funny, all of that stuff that people like," she was amazed Jacob could speak so fondly of a brother who evidently got so much more out of life than he did. "People really just… they just like him, y'know? It's pretty cool, how much people like him."

She didn't have a chance to cast aspersions on the perfectly cool Hank, as they had reached her aunt and uncle's house and Jacob was already out of the Ute and walking to open her door for her. He did so, and she stepped out and walked with him silently to her front door. "So, can I rely on you to lend me a hand when I get some of my stuff shipped over?" Claire asked with a smile as they reached the front veranda.

Hesitantly, he replied. "If uh, if that's uh… what you want."

"Of course I do," she answered with a small laugh, shaking her head at him. "You're the only one I know in this town aside from Linda and Carl. But if you really don't want to, I mean, you don't have too."

Frowning, he looked around, anywhere but her, it would seem. "I dunno, I might be a… a…little busy."

"Oh," she tried not to sound crestfallen. It looked like her efforts to make new friends really hadn't worked as well as she might have hoped and that wounded her pride a little. She stiffly nodded and bid him goodbye, but as she was about to open the door he spoke again.

"Do… are you gonna be at church tomorrow? It'd be uh…a way to meet people, I 'spose," his tone was conciliatory, and Claire softened, turning to face him as he earnestly stood on the second step up, hands deep in his pockets.

"I gave up on God a long time ago, Jacob," she said, not unkindly. "He hasn't blessed me in many ways."

"The way I see it," her companion began, looking at the ground. "Is that the Good Lord don't give many blessings to those with stronger spirits, 'cause he knows that they'll make the best out of any situation."

Her answering laugh was mirthless. "Is that so? Thank you anyway, I'll think about it."

Later, when she had finished calling her mother and avoiding all those annoying little questions she posed about Dan, she made herself a strong cup of tea and sat down while waiting for Linda to return home from the hair salon and Carl from the police station, wondering how many times Jacob Mitchell had asked God why he had to make his spirit so strong.

* * *

If it was even possible, Claire was sure that it was even more freezing than it had been the day before. She snuggled down into her bed more, dreading the thought of getting up to such dreadful weather. The dreary setting outside made it impossible to tell exactly what time it was, but streams of weak sunlight occasionally filtered through to touch the floor, disappearing sooner than they came.

Yesterday had been draining – things evolved so much quicker than she anticipated in this sleepy town drenched in snow. And Jacob, well, he was more than he appeared. One moment, he's acting all friendly, then the next; he doesn't want to help her out. This seemed kind of… jerk-like to Claire. Sighing in resignation, she moved the covers off her upper body and sat up, scrunching her fingers in her tousled hair. It was useless to think about things like that, they just made you cranky. She got out of bed and grabbed some clothes, then headed for the shower, grumbling an incoherent greeting to her uncle as she passed him in the hall. After having a nice hot shower and getting dressed in something a little more presentable than yesterday's jeans and sweater, and was wearing a pair of black slacks that were the same colour as he slightly dressy boots and a dark purple shirt with a pale grey cardigan. Despite what she'd said so Jacob Mitchell, she was attending church with her aunt and uncle, not wanting to disrespect their beliefs while underneath their roof. Gently pinning back half of her curls as she entered the kitchen, Claire sat at the table and perused the morning paper her uncle had abandoned in favour of cooking a full hearty breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausages and tomatoes.

Her uncle, instead of being dressed in his usual uniform, was dressed in neatly pressed pants and a crisp white shirt with a sweater that looked to be made by her aunt on, who was bustling through from the pantry with a loaf of bread. Both seemed to have been blissfully unaware of her presence for a moment, so she busied herself reading the paper. Her aunt hummed a soft tune and placed a mug of coffee in front of Claire, which she gratefully accepted with thanks.

"I actually saw Jacob Mitchell at the store yesterday evening," Linda began, her voice seemingly innocent as she sat across from her niece.

"That's nice," came the red-head's guarded reply.

"He had an awful lot to say about you," she continued, and feigning disinterest, her niece kept her gaze on the paper. "Said you were a 'lovely and nice young woman'. It's the funniest thing Carl, I think he sees her like a little sister, I do. You made quite an impression on him."

"Is that so? Well, he's a very sweet man too," Claire's all-too-distracted reply didn't really fool any of the inhabitants of the kitchen.

"Sweet indeed," Carl chuckled.

"Yes, sweet. And don't you two both look like the cat who's got in the cream? What are you both so smug about?" Claire asked suspiciously, finally setting down the paper, the picture of a local farmer in front of a plane smiling up at them all.

"I can't imagine what you mean," Linda said flippantly, sipping her tea daintily. "I just think Jacob Mitchell is a very nice young man."

"Young? He's at least forty, Aunt Linda!"

"And I'm pushing sixty, so yes, young. I doubt that boy is _forty_. I think he's around thirty-six, actually."

"A huge difference that makes, I'm sure. I'm not even entirely certain why we're having this conversation," she told her aunt impatiently, silently looking to her uncle for support, who raised his hands in front of him in a helpless gesture and began to serve breakfast.

"I was just telling you that Jacob Mitchell seems very interested in you."

"Puh-lease! We're barely friends if that is exactly what you're implying."

Linda eyed her niece critically. "Well, you're certainly not getting any younger."

"Aunt!"

* * *

Church was exactly as she had remembered it - dull, full of mostly old people who smelt faintly of dust and not at all enlightening. People were filing out of the pews, and walking up the aisle to shake hands with the priest, Father Ken, a kindly man about the same age as her uncle with a moustache and warm blue eyes that were like dark water. He at least seemed to mean well, and didn't say something stupid to her like 'Welcome to our flock, child', but instead warmly shook her hand and asked her if she'd enjoyed today's sermon. Judging by the twinkle in his eyes, he'd seen her almost falling asleep upright during it.

She, Carl and Linda exited the church, and before Claire even had time to blink, she was being led over to see Jacob Mitchell, who was standing with a dark haired man that was his height and a very pregnant woman who smiled nicely at them as they approached. _This must be Hank and his wife_, Claire realised, smiling at them all genially. Jacob had abandoned his casually baggy look from yesterday and wore khaki slacks with a beige shirt and a dark blue overcoat. He moved forward to shake Carl's hand, and after they had all greeted each other, he made introductions. "This is uh... Carl's niece from Australia, Claire," he said, seeming to feel awkward in the position with everyone's attention on him. "A-and Claire, this is Hank, my brother, and his wife Sarah."

Sarah gave a sweet smile and moved to shake Claire's hand, which the other woman took with a warm smile, and Hank did the same. They all greeted each other in turn, and Hank looked at her curiously. "So you're the one who made Jacob miss our meeting yesterday?" he asked not unkindly in a light tone to indicate his joke.

"Ah yes, I apologise for that," Claire replied, smiling ruefully at the brothers, who were both like chalk and cheese. "But Jacob was extremely helpful, and I appreciated his help."

The aforementioned man seemed to avoid Claire's gaze, so she stopped seeking it and instead concentrated on Hank. "Jacob's always been like that. It's one of his best qualities," the man was saying, and she couldn't tell if it was a thinly veiled insult referring to how slow his brother was or not. No-one else seemed to take it that way, so she supposed she was being overly-sensitive and over-protective. Why, she couldn't fathom, but it was unnerving.

"Yes, if everyone was as helpful as Jacob the world would probably be a better place. But there are so very few considerate people these days it's hard to believe that men like him still exist," she replied sweetly, the harsh sting behind her words probably coming through loud and clear. He might not have meant it that way, but Claire was sure that his brother had taken it that way. Jacob looked uncomfortable, but Carl, Linda and Sarah seemed blissfully unaware, engaged in their own conversations.

"I can see what you mean, Claire." Hank's reply was calculated, and she couldn't help but to inwardly feel distaste spiraling in her stomach like curdled milk.

"Thank ya for helpin' my niece out again, Jacob," Carl interrupted her from replying and he looked at her pointedly. "You should come round for lunch - Linda's makin' her famous roast, and ya don't wanna miss that."

His niece looked at the bespectacled man, who blinked in surprise as a slight smile graced his features, softening them. "I'd like that very much, Carl," he replied, glancing at her. She returned his gaze, her eyes crinkling in an almost-smile that wouldn't come for the taste of bitterness in her mouth when she thought of Hank's comment.

"Perhaps you should take her in your truck? It's awful squished in mine with the three of us," her uncle continued, very innocently and she thought much too slyly.

"If that's convenient," Claire hastily added, not wanting her uncle to come across as rude.

Jacob looked at them both with surprise, then nodded affirmatively. "Uh, sure, if that's what you think would be best, Carl," he agreed, his face showing his uncertainty.

Everyone bid their goodbyes, Claire's aunt and uncle telling them that they'd see them back at the house, and eventually the young woman followed her companion back to his no familiar ute with a mix of apprehension and excitement.

"Sorry for all the trouble," Claire apologised softly, fiddling with her hair nervously.

Jacob glanced over at her, surprise written across his face. "It's no trouble," he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets as that trudged through the snow, which was quite deep now. The young woman beside him decided not to speak, content with following for then. She watched Jacob's tall figure in front of her and once more felt angry not only about Hank, but about the way he had blown her off yesterday. Tucking a stray curl behind her ear, she was suddenly stopped by nearly running in to Jacob as he stopped in front of the ute and turned to her.

"Claire... a-about yesterday," Jacob began, turning to look at her with an expression she could only described as pained. "I just aint... used to- to people _wanting_ to be a-around me, y'know?"

She bit her lip, feeling awkward for inwardly cursing him earlier. "I did though," she admitted, locking eyes with him. "I'd like to be your friend, Jacob. I need a friend here."

The older man looked at her for a moment before nodding and opening the door to the ute for her. When they'd both seated themselves comfortably and Claire had buckled her seatbelt (she'd never really get used to the American custom of not wearing them) Jacob started the engine and they departed, in a silence that wasn't quite comfortable or uncomfortable. Drawing in a breath, she began to try and make conversation before Jacob inquired of her, "So uh... what was that job o-of yours that you w-were takin' in the city?"

"I'm a nurse. Paediatrics. So when your brother's wife has her baby I'll probably get to see her," she replied with a slightly tight smile, thinking of Hank. "Speaking of which... is your brother always like that?"

Jacob looked across at her briefly, a puzzled frown gracing his rough features. "Well, I... I'm not sure what y-you mean," he mumbled uncertainly, but she was sure he had some notion of what she was referring to.

"You don't think he was kind of... rude, about you?" she asked outright, her ballsy take-no-prisoners attitude coming out as she crossed her arms against her chest. "I mean, he was insinuating that he was better than you."

Her companion clenched the steering wheel and she closed her mouth with a snap, wondering if she had perhaps said too much. "It's..." he began, then cleared his throat, keeping his eyes firmly on the road. "It's not rude, Claire. 'Cause it's k-kinda true, ain't it? Y'know I-I'm not like Hank, I'm not... s-someone people look up to."

His frown grew deeper as he ruminated on his thoughts and Claire bit her lip, chagrined and wishing she'd never said a thing about Jacob and Hank. "I know," she began, licking her dry lips, looking out the window at the moving landscape and thinking a moment before continuing. "I know that it seems like things are bad. But I guess life moves on and so do we. We have to, don't we? Maybe you should stop running from the person you really are, away from all the intellectual shit."

Silence reigned after her statement before Jacob, eyeing her with a stiff formality, replied, "D-Do you really think that you're s-someone who should say anythin' about runnin' a-a-away? "

The red-head was both shocked and extremely annoyed at his comment and was thankful that they had (conveniently) arrived at Carl and Linda's and were about to stop across the road so she could undo her seatbelt and theatrically slam the door after her. "Fuck..." Claire heard Jacob curse in his agitation as he too sprang out of the ute and after her as she angrily strolled across the street. "Damn it Claire, I didn't-"

"You don't know anything about me!" the younger woman effused, swinging around to face Jacob, who was a metre or so behind her at that point. "You have no right to make assumptions about the way I live and _have_ live my life!"

The older man seemed taken aback for a moment or two before recovering and raising his arms in surrender before him. "Don't it work both ways, then?" he asked, tone not quite so impassioned as hers but certainly not mild.

"What?"

"You can stand there a-and ask me whatever _you _want, t-tell me how to... how to live my life, but I can't?"

It was now Claire's turn to be taken aback. "But I never-"

"Beggin' your pardon, but you did. Just 'cause I ain't s-smart, it doesn't mean that I... I don't know what I mean." Head held high, stiff, and his eyes witha genuinely hurt expression in them, Jacob was the picture of a wounded man and Claire was surprised that she felt such an ache of regret in her chest. "You c-can tell me what you think, but I would like to be able to at-at least tell you what _I _think."

Nodding, Claire felt like a chastened five year-old and was sorry to have caused undue pain to her only real friend in this hell of a town. She was constantly underestimating Jacob, taking for granted just how smart he really was when you thought about it. He was not intellectual, nor did he have a way with words, but he had a way of perceiving people for the way they really were, sensing people's feelings on instinct. It was more interesting and more intense than anything she had ever know. "I'm sorry Jacob," she murmured after a few moments of silence, then closed the distance between them, placing a small kiss on his cheek was smooth after being shaved for church. "I'll try to be a better friend to you. Shall we go in?"

Her companion simply nodded, seeming to be lost for words and Claire silently promised herself that she really would be a better friend to Jacob, even when she made new friends in the city, at her job, he would still come first. What alarmed her most though, was the way she felt Jacob's eyes on her as they walked up to the house and the way she tingled with the small feeling it produced was distinctly un-friend-like. Confusingly enough, she didn't know if she liked that or not.


End file.
